CHAPTER THREE #5
He had the most piercing eyes she had ever known, and a strange way of speaking in a manner that left no doubt as to his intent.
When he spoke, there was no room for argument or negotiation.
His statements were cold, chilling—and irrefutable.
He absolutely despised her, she was certain; yet she would go with him and be …
Used and abused! His words!
He was as cold as ice, but his limbs and eyes burned with a strange passion. He had given mercy to the men, to the servants, but he was still covered in blood from the battle.
She bit her lower lip, staring at him. He gripped her as if he would far more willingly throw her from the parapets than drag her up to a bedroom. There had to be some way to argue him out of this; he had but one intent, and that was revenge against Darrow.
“You think to threaten me, and so strike out at Kinsey? My dear sir, you don’t understand us. We are both ambitious to a fault, and therefore will still wed. I am aware of his fondness for damsels in distress; he is resigned to my hunger for variety. I—”
“Were you aware that he has murdered those ‘damsels’ when he is finished with his own amusements?” he queried sharply.
She bit her lower lip again. “He never meant to kill your wife—”
“I’m sure his remorse was deep, that he has prostrated himself on his knees to God daily since the event.”
His dry sarcasm was biting.
“I still say that it was not intended,” she protested, “and since you are so obviously appalled by me, I can’t think what you hope to accomplish here! Did you think to soil his virginal bride? Dear sir, you’re so sadly mistaken. There’s nothing you can do, short of murder—”
“Ah, but,” he interrupted, “we have not yet discarded that as an option, I must tell you in all fair warning.”
“You don’t want to kill me!” she accused him.
“No,” he admitted flatly, those impenetrable blue eyes never wavering from hers. “But that will not stop me from doing so. Let’s go back upstairs, shall we?”
“Why don’t you just finish it here? Go ahead. Prove your brutality. Do it now. Throw me over the parapet!”
“Alas, I dare not. I might hit someone below.”
She tugged afresh at her hair, as frightened by his coldness as his heat, and not at all reassured by his dry humor. “Please …”
He suddenly released her hair. “Get upstairs.”
She walked in front of him, then turned on him again. “I’m telling you, this will mean nothing at all to Kinsey.”
“Indeed? Well, good, then. God knows, there is nothing wrong with enjoying vengeance. I see that you are so anxious to get to it that you have already discarded half your clothing.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Sir, you might remember that my clothing is in dishabille due to your less than gentle touch!”
“Ah, but that was hours ago—last night, as a matter of fact. You had no time for repair?”
“I was busy with important work,” she told him.
“So I see,” he replied, surveying the tied clothing and bed sheets that had supplied what should have been her escape route. Then he stared at her again, touching the garment that cloaked her shoulders. Your father’s mantle?” he asked politely. Then his eyes narrowed darkly. “Or Kinsey’s?”
She didn’t know why she answered with the truth so quickly, but she did. “My father’s.”
His eyes stayed hard on her. She started to walk again, then spun around, anger and despair welling within her.
“I will not walk ahead of you like a lamb to slaughter!” she exclaimed, and, slamming both hands hard against his chest, she tried to push by him.
She made it to his left side before she was dragged back.
His fingers tangled in her hair again. Tears stung her eyes.
Step by step, she was dragged inexorably toward the tower room.
And there stood Jay. “Thank God!” he muttered, and the way he now looked at her, she thought that she had lost a friend for certain. He was furious with her for trying to escape.
Yet what did they expect? As they had come against her in Darrow’s place for vengeance, so they must realize that it was equally a matter of honor for her to refuse to accept the fate they intended for her as well.
Yet Jay was furious. She had made a fool of him.
“Arryn! I tell you, she did not leave by the door! I just discovered her absence when the servants came with the bath—”
“She departed by the window, Jay,” Arryn said, and she felt his gaze. “Not suspecting her capable of such idiocy, I discovered her quite by accident.”
“Idiocy!” she protested, fighting his tangled hold upon her hair again “Not idiocy, but sheer desperation. It is my duty, sir, to escape you!”
“She is very eager to return to Darrow, so it seems,” Arryn said.
He had come from behind her, placed his hands upon her hips, and thrust her forward into the middle of the tower room.
Gaston was there with several strapping young lads.
He had brought the old, deep, Norse-carved hip tub from the kitchen.
Water steamed from it while a kettle bubbled above the fire.
Fresh towels had been laid out on the tapestried chair by the side of the hearth.
A deep, thick, brown bear pelt lay on the floor by the tub and before the fire.
It was a charming domestic scene.
To make it all the more comfortable, new linens were being hastily arranged upon the large bed, with its carved oak head-and footboards.
Gaston met her eyes with sorrow. She realized that he had come here, seen her escape attempt, and had tried to keep quiet the fact that she had been absent from the room.
But Jay had burst in behind him, and when Gaston could not pretend that she was still within the room, he had hastily tried to repair the damage she had done, hoping that by doing so, he might help soothe the temper of some savage beast.
She ruefully smiled her thanks to him, then quickly lowered her eyes. She didn’t want the invaders seeing any exchange between them. He was her friend, trying to help her. It was a pity that he could not.
Gaston was quick to spring to action. “Ah, sir, ah, my lady! The bath awaits, and all is fresh and clean. And there is a large flagon of ale here, sir, with two of the castle’s finest silver cups. I shall pour for you.”
He offered ale first to Kyra; she took it gladly, draining the cup before he had turned to Arryn. Arryn didn’t notice.
Gaston quickly gave her more ale. Again she thanked him with her eyes. She would never give up the hope of escape, but it seemed to dim. Drink was all that was left.
“Shall I serve you, sir?” Gaston asked. “Help you to remove your mail—”
“The lady will help me,” Arryn said.
“The lady will not!” she protested, then felt his eyes. She wanted to scream, but she found herself smiling sweetly instead. “The lady could not possibly give you the assistance you require. Why, the weight of your mail—”
“I’m sure you’ll manage very well. Gaston, leave us.”
Jay had hovered at the door. “I’ll remain on guard.”
“It will not be necessary. Gaston, if you please …”
“Ah, but Lady Kyra is right! The weight of your mail—”
“Gaston. Get out.”
The Briton had done his best to defend his lady; he had lost. “Aye, sir,” he said softly. He looked at Kyra, apology in his eyes.
She lifted her chin, trying to show him that she would be all right.
He left the room. Her friend was gone. She was not going to be all right.
Jay looked in on them a minute longer. “Good night,” he said simply.
Then he, too, quietly departed and closed the door.
And she was alone with the man who had sworn vengeance against her.